Transformation: A Time Turner Tale
by mayamuses2
Summary: Dramione/Harmony/Drarry dramatic triangle starting from first year. Hermione POV. Draco Malfoy is potentially carrying a non-wizarding gene - how can he be prejudiced against half-bloods and Muggle borns?
1. The Visit, Part 1

_**Saturday, August 3, 1991**_

Hermione eagerly turned the pages of her new Year 8 summer pre-reading. She was thrilled to return to her second year of secondary school and immerse herself once more in the world of academia. Her room was dedicated to the pursuit of learning, with bookshelves from ceiling to floor in her interestingly shaped room, a long desk with organized writing utensils and journals, and of course, her favorite window seat. She loved settling in for late night or early morning exam preparations with her comfy blue lap desk on her bed or among the golden pillows of her window seat.

Mrs. Granger loved cooking and gardening when she wasn't tending to her patients at the dentist's office, and the appetizing smell of lasagna wafted into Hermione's first floor room. Her stomach gave a low rumble and she stood up, walking to the kitchen with her nose in the book.

"Hermione, dear, I do wish you would speak with your father and me during mealtime. How has your week been?"

Hermione closed the book and placed it beside her generous portion of lasagna with an apologetic expression. "My apologies, Mum, the novel is quite interesting. My week has been brilliant! I was able to practice maths with the textbooks in the library."

"Was is this I hear of maths?" Mr. Granger ruffled her hair. "I thought you enjoyed reading history!"

"I quite enjoy all subjects. I've been rather busy this summer with my pre-studying for the year, but I miss the hustle and bustle of exams and such."

"Perhaps next summer, your mother and I will enroll you in summer courses at the university," Mr. Granger said, giving his wife a meaningful look. "You are almost 12 years of age, and it's as good a time to consider university as any."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Granger smiled at her husband and daughter. "We will find a nice academic summer program for next year."

After lunch, the family cleared the table together. "What do you think of a cinema night this evening?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"A documentary?" Hermione looked to her mother hopefully. "Maybe Queen Elizabeth's era?"

"I was considering something more humorous, but if that is what you wish, we shall watch that." Mrs. Granger loved pleasing her only child. Hermione was such a help around the house with chores, always achieving top marks in school - she had no complaints about her. Yes, there had been strange occurrences through the years that she and her husband could not explain, such as Hermione's books levitating away from her when she fell asleep on the window seat, or her room fully cleaned after seeing books and clothes on the floor just five minutes prior, with Hermione visiting the loo. She and Will had disregarded these infrequent cases as a trick of the light, sleep deprivation or their failing memories as they aged, but Jean knew that her daughter was meant for something beyond a simple mundane life. She certainly charmed all she came across, being the enchanting child she was.

* * *

Mrs. Granger was shaken from a reverie by the doorbell chiming. She wondered who it could be on Saturday afternoon. She had just visited their neighbor Alma yesterday and delivered a cake to the new couple in regards to housewarming on Wednesday - her neighborly goodwill duties had been exhausted this week. She peeked through the peephole to see a hook-nosed man in a full black suit standing on their doorstep, his shoulder-length raven hair framing his olive toned face, a severe expression upon it. He held a large scroll in one hand and a letter in the other. With an irritated look, he brushed his hair out of his eyes and reached once more for the doorbell. Mrs. Granger braced herself and cautiously opened the door, the man rearranging his features into the briefest semblance of a more pleasurable expression upon seeing her. "Mrs. Granger, I presume?" He had withdrawn a note from his suit jacket and read from it. "I am here to discuss your daughter Hermione Jean Granger's upcoming academic year, as well as her subsequent educational journey. It would be best if Mr. Granger could join you, as this is a highly important discussion of the utmost urgency."

"All right, then," said Mrs. Granger nervously. She had relaxed a bit once he mentioned Hermione's education - after all, her angel was the model student. It could only be good news, right? Regardless, she did not wish to turn her back on the strange man. "Will!" she called into the house. She tentatively smiled at the man through the screen door, which she had left locked. "And you are?"

"Professor Severus Snape, Potions instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have her acceptance letter from the deputy headmistress in hand." He indicated the letter with the briefest tilt of his chin.

Jean Granger's mind spun. Potions? Witchcraft? "If you say so, sir," she said before falling backward into a faint, caught by her husband who appeared belatedly, rubbing his eyes from his afternoon nap.


	2. The Visit, Part 2

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had demanded much of Professor Severus Snape during his tenure thus far at Hogwarts, but this was an unexpected request. Albus had insisted that he take his share of Muggle-born first years, and when Severus had opened his mouth to protest, Dumbledore had cut him off.

"Severus, please." The headmaster gave him a stern look. "At least one. Let me see," he shuffled through the files, "ah. Yes. Hermione Jean Granger. You are to visit her on August 3rd."

"Albus, you know my history in regards to a Muggle-born gi - " Severus began, but stopped at Dumbledore's kind, grandfatherly look.

"I do, Severus. I most certainly do," he said, meeting Severus' coal black eyes with his own twinkling blue ones. "But you have dodged this duty for years. It is 1991. Has a certain ring to it, does it not? The year you turn over a new leaf?"

"But I am the Head of Slytherin. Esteemed figures - Lucias Malfoy for one - have a deep-rooted prejudice in regards to pure blood lineage. His own son, Draco, is coming to Hogwarts this year and will most likely be sorted into Slytherin as the family of Malfoy Manor has been for decades - what will they say of me if they know of my visit?"

"Oh, this young lady is quite intelligent, and I know you will not linger post-completion of your required duty. It is a rather straightforward task." Albus considered Severus with the hint of a smile. "Though I must say, smiling every so often would be quite the improvement. You don't want to scare her parents."

"Albus - "

"August 3rd, 3 PM." Albus affixed Severus with his intense gaze, his voice holding a note of finality. He handed Severus the required materials and returned to sorting the Muggle-born first years' paperwork into stacks for his staff.

* * *

"What did you tell my wife?" Will Granger, his rumpled shirt untucked and auburn hair mussed, glared at the hook-nosed stranger as he held his wife's dead weight with some difficulty.

"I am only the messenger, Severus Snape." His voice was low, hardly more than a whisper, and monotone with a vaguely sinister edge. He barely moved his thin lips. "My message is in regards to your daughter Hermione Granger's next phase in education. I have come to deliver her acceptance letter and discuss logistical details."

Will regarded the man - other than his voice, which slightly grated on his nerves, and full black suit, he seemed rather normal. Then again, the mysterious stranger may be a serial killer. Ah well, the things they'd had to do for their clever daughter's education.

"All right." Will moved his wife to the kitchen with minor dragging action and revived her with their most fermented bleu cheese. When she came to, she exclaimed, "Will! This man had been babbling about _witchcraft_!"

"Is that so?" Will raised his eyebrows at his wife and the man. Severus, he had said. Certainly matched his severe expression. "Let's sit in the living room."

 _About time_ , Severus thought dryly as he followed the couple into their well-furnished home. He swallowed with difficulty as he noticed their family portraits upon the kitchen countertop and hanging on the walls; if only his own family had been this close-knit. _Muggles_ , he thought with some contempt. _Them and their emotions_. All these mundane pleasantries were wearing him out.

"All right," Will said evenly. "What's the spiel?" _My, isn't he direct_. Severus felt the faintest twinge of respect for the man before him. He'd make a great Slytherin, had he not been a Muggle.

"At our institution, Hogwarts School, students begin their first year at age 11," Severus began the well-rehearsed opener, a "spiel" indeed. Albus and the Muggle Studies professor had simultaneously led the vigorous training curriculum. Those two and Minerva were given the most challenging tasks - Muggles who were likely to protest, or the case of wizarding celebrity Harry Potter. "Her education will allow your daughter to explore the full potential of her magical abilities." There was a pause here in the script. Indeed, the wife piped up, "What magical abilities?"

"Charms, spells, potions," Severus answered vaguely with a wave of his hand. "She'll of course be needing a wand, which she will purchase in Diagon Alley, the magical bazaar in London." He handed the Hogwarts welcome letter to the father, who seemed more practical. "Her required materials are attached on page 2. You will be able to convert your money - pounds - into the currency of the wizarding world, galleons at the wizarding bank, Gringotts." He gave the map of Diagon Alley with directions for accessing the magical street lined with wizarding shops, pointing at Gringotts upon it. As the parents examined the map and conversed in low tones, he reached into his satchel for another item. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore also provided this book as a gift, as he is aware of your daughter's penchant for reading." The couple widened their eyes at _Hogwarts, a History_ as it was handed to them.

"How is our daughter magical when we are not?" Mrs. Granger had clearly been bursting at the seams with curiosity regarding this spoken inquiry. "Or do we have untapped magical potential ourselves?"

"The term for non-magical folk is Muggles; Hermione therefore falls into the category of Muggle-born." Snape grimaced; he'd used "Hermione" without including "your daughter." Ah well, there would be deviances from the training material. He tried to smile, realizing that grimacing after announcing their Muggle status was hardly politically correct, but failed miserably. He settled on pursing his lips in a thin line. "In your family tree, there is a person, or people, born into a wizarding family but with no magical ability, also known as a Squib. Despite their lineage, their lack of ability does not serve them in the wizarding world. These Squibs therefore mix in the Muggle world and marry Muggles. However, the recessive magical gene among the bloodline can become dominant in some cases, such as this situation. Hence, Muggle-born wizards and witches." He needed a tall glass of water - this was not unlike lecturing in Potions class. "Excuse me," he said out of politeness as he conjured a glass of water out of thin air. The Grangers stared at him, and then the glass, with thinly veiled shock. Will recovered first, looking down to the welcome letter.

"School begins September 2," Will read aloud, then looked up. "We have a month."

"Indeed." Severus said, reluctantly admitting that he was rather pleased with this man's straightforwardness. He nearly chuckled - a very rare occurrence for him - at the thought of a Muggle in Slytherin. That would wipe the smug look of pure-blood supremacist Lucias Malfoy's face, the pride in his son Draco's certain sorting into Severus' own house. "Should you have further inquiries, you may write the school, mentioning myself or Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall."

"Will you be speaking with Hermione?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"You explanation, the book, and the letter will be sufficient enough," he said, hurriedly raising to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he said for the second time that afternoon.

"Of course," the Grangers said in unison as their daughter appeared behind them, a bright-eyed and bushy-haired brunette. As Severus Apparated, he felt a crushing sense of nostalgia wash over him. The young girl looked so very much like her. The Grangers gasped at the crack as he vanished into thin air, and Hermione thoughtfully observed the swirl of black robes, a hook-nosed man mournfully meeting her gaze for a millisecond.


	3. Fathers and Houses

Hermione didn't think much of the mysterious man's disappearing act. It was curious, for certain, and Hermione felt a tad woozy witnessing the spectacle, but her many novels had prepared her well for such a moment. Perhaps he was a faerie, though she doubted it. Something darker…she scolded herself on the direction her thoughts were turning. Never one to judge a book by its cover, she frequently extended the same maxim to daily life.

She gazed over at her mother upon the loveseat. She clutched a full set of teeth, one of the models she showed orthodontics patients, in her right hand. She was staring at it religiously, ignoring the soothing words of her husband Will. "Give me some time," she slowly said at last. "I need a moment to recover." At this, Mr. Granger turned to Hermione.

"Don't tax her further," he warned. "She's had quite enough for the afternoon."

"Yes, Father," Hermione responded obediently. Her eyes fell upon the thick book on the coffee table. "Is this for me?"

"Yes, indeed. It's the history of your new school come September – it's in your best interest to get a good read on it. We'll be engaging in back to school shopping shortly, maybe as early as tomorrow." He attempted a reassuring smile, but ended up grimacing and indicating the book. He sighed as Hermione practically skipped from the room, eager to engage with her new reading assignment.

* * *

Not too far away, in Wiltshire, England of UK, a robed boy with neatly back brushed platinum blond hair stood with his father and godfather in their grand manor. He was quite upset to have been removed from his books, but didn't dare disobey his father.

"I don't see why you _burden_ yourself so, Severus," his father haughtily flipped his long platinum blond hair over the right shoulder of an emerald evening robe. "Draco and I will be visiting Diagon Alley tomorrow. No cause for concern."

"I was only passing through the area. Thought to check in," the young boy's godfather gave his tight-lipped response.

"Ah, the _sentiment_ is appreciated. Come along, Draco, we have no further business here." The boy's father stomped his elegant staff upon the foyer. "Dobby!" He called for their house-elf.

The boy turned and locked eyes with his godfather as he followed his father out of the atrium. _Did you bring any books today?_ he mouthed. His godfather gave a barely noticeable shake as his head as he Apparated. The boy transformed his crushing disappointment into a well-practiced sneer when his father turned back. When Lucias Malfoy turned away once more, young Draco pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering.

* * *

Hermione eagerly settled into her window seat with the book, utterly fascinated. She gasped when she opened the book to the title page and saw four robed individuals standing alongside each other in a _moving picture_ – two of them were waving! Helga Hufflepuff, read the waving lady's label, and Godric Gryffindor was under the waving man's. Hermione, however, was drawn to the blue robed maiden, her face half-hidden in a magical blue mist. Rowena Ravenclaw, the swirling script beside her image indicated. Her intelligent eyes appraised Hermione, fixing her with a steady gaze. The fourth man, dressed in robes of forest green, sneered at the other three and walked out of the picture altogether. _How rude!_ thought Hermione. Salazar Slytherin, the caption read briefly with an arrow before vanishing with the figure it accompanied.

She read on, immersed in the founding of the four houses, the bewitched high ceiling of the Great Hall, the present day Heads of Houses, including Severus Snape of Slytherin. She gazed at the man's profile, his severe expression quite familiar. Had a Hogwarts Head of House been in her _living room_? She blinked with surprise. As she continued reading, she felt that she was most aligned with Ravenclaw. Oh, how the blue crest with the eagle called to her…

When Mr. Granger came to tuck his daughter in, he saw her peacefully asleep in her bed, the book open and upside down on her stomach. As he approached it, it glowed with a soft blue light. Hermione muttered in her sleep, and the book slowly levitated and settled upon her bedside table.

* * *

"Your godfather is the Head of Slytherin House," Father said dryly. Draco lay upon his green bed fittings, fighting sleep. He preferred when his mother tucked him in, but Father had been adamant this evening after returning from a gathering including his mother and Aunt Bellatrix. Draco shivered as he recalled his aunt's wild hair and ferocious grin. No wonder she had no companion. Draco knew that when he married, the girl would have to be gentle and brave, a reader…"You will be in Slytherin as well." His father's voice cut into his thoughts. "If I had my way, you would be at Durmstrang Institute. However, due to your mother's concerns surrounding various factors regarding Durmstrang, as well as your godfather's presence at Hogwarts, you shall attend Hogwarts." His father gave him a severe glare. "Regardless of the circumstance, I will not have you mixing with Mudbloods, do you hear me? And not one of those individuals with filthy bloodlines shall surpass you in your studies."

"Yes, Father," Draco said obediently, violently stifling a yawn. Father would display his utmost displeasure at Draco's disobedience.

"Master?" came Dobby's high-pitched voice.

"Tend to the boy," commanded Lucias, sweeping out of the room. But when Dobby approached Draco's bedside, the boy was fast asleep.


	4. Diagon Alley, Part 1

"How much money shall we take along?" inquired Mrs. Granger, carefully extracting her pocketbook from her slim purse. "Will we have to pay tuition costs upfront?"

Will was surprised that his wife had recovered in such a short amount of time. He had married her for her wit and desire to help others in the real world; one of the early struggles of their relationship had been his tendency to gravitate towards fantasy novels and comics. Jean's traumatic run-ins with her dentist had been her motivation for becoming one herself – Will had become one for the money and stability. He admired her bravery, to go against what she feared most, to do what she desired most. Deep down, he wished he had gotten some of that wizarding blood that ran in their family tree.

"No, Mum, tuition is free," Hermione announced, hopping onto a breakfast stool. "The only costs to us are school robes, a wand, a pet if I chose to have one, and general school supplies such as textbooks."

"That is great news indeed!" Mrs. Granger beamed at her daughter.

"I presume we're going today?" Will asked, looking between his eager wife and daughter.

"Of course we are! There is no better time!" Will was rather taken aback by his wife's enthusiasm. He then gazed to the large coffee mug near her purse. _Ah, of course. Caffeine stimulation._ Despite being a dentist, and being fully aware of the consequences of coffee stains and the like, she was quite the coffee addict. She wasn't even a proper Brit, drinking coffee like that as opposed to black tea.

"Don't you have to go to church?" Will reminded her.

Mrs. Granger wilted for a moment before brightening. "Ah well, as we are dabbling in witchcraft anyway, we might as well skip church."

* * *

They stopped outside a broken-down shop on Charing Cross Road, _For Lease_ hanging outside of it. "Is this the place?" Will scratched his balding head, gazing the instructions to Diagon Alley. Hermione gazed out of the window of the backseat, her hand pressed against the sudden fluttering in her stomach. _The Leaky Cauldron_ , she read, seeing the small pub set between a bookshop and a record shop. She couldn't deny that she felt a connection to this place.

"What do you see, Mum, Dad?" she inquired. "I see a pub." Her parents turned to look at her with identical masks of shock.

"How do you know what a pub looks like?" Mrs. Granger said at last.

"I've read books." Hermione waved her hand vaguely. "There are parking spaces on the street."

"Is it safe to leave our car here?" Will turned to his wife in concern. The entire street screamed desolation; the surrounding shops were dark. No other cars lined the road.

"One of us should stay with the car," Jean began before Hermione interrupted. "Oh, they won't be after the car." Her parents shared surprised glances once more.

"Let's go!" she said, unable to resist the pub's magnetic pull. "One of you or both, it does not matter – let's do what we came here to do." Her parents looked at each other, then Mr. Granger pulled into an empty parking spot. They both emerged from the car after their bushy haired daughter, clad in a grey sweater, pleated navy skirt, grey stockings and Mary Janes.

"I believe I will need to show my Hogwarts letter," Hermione extended her hand. Mr. Granger gave her the letter and Hermione threw her hair over her shoulder, confidently marching through the door of the _For Lease_ property.

The trio was approached by a stooped over, bald old man with a wide, toothless grin. "I'm Tom, how can I help you three?"

Will and Jean Granger had been able to see the inside of the bar once they had passed through the doorway. It had felt as though they were emerging through a shimmering veil. Jean nervously looked around the pub at the various people seated about, some in pointed hats and robes of various shades, one man seated in the corner wearing an enormous purple turban. A few were immersed in their discussions or games of chess, but a good number turned to look at the new arrivals. Before Jean could think too much about possible mutterings directed towards their little squad from the assembled crowd, Hermione's voice rang out, "Hogwarts first year: here to buy my books and supplies in Diagon Alley."

"Of course, my dear. Follow me!" Tom lifted his hand and vaguely gestured toward the courtyard. They followed him and their daughter to the small, enclosed space outside the pub. Tom made his way over to the dustbin and lifted a carved stick over his head, tapping three up and two across. The Muggle parents' mouths dropped open upon witnessing the bricks moving and rearranging themselves into a doorway. Daughter and parents stood gaping at the wonder ahead of them: the hustling, bustling, hidden shop-lined street.

"Okay," Hermione said brusquely, the first to recover. "We'll first need to do the currency exchange at Gringotts, then I can get my wand at Ollivander's, robe fittings at Madame Malkin's, pick up my books at Flourish and Blotts, and let's see," she consulted her school list and notes, "potions and other class supplies in various shops."

"How are you so certain of your way around?" Mr. Granger inquired. He looked at his wife: nope, she hadn't followed a word Hermione said either.

"In _Hogwarts, A History_ , there is a section on first year materials obtained in Diagon Alley. It has always been so." Hermione consulted their map and headed towards Gringotts, her bewildered parents following.

* * *

In Gringotts, Hermione's parents gasped at the pointy-eared, fun-sized goblins that lined the teller windows. They were all rather busy, stamping this sheet or the other, working with golden scales, writing notes with feather quills upon parchment, or engaging in various other important duties. The bank was rather grandiose with its multiple hanging chandeliers, impeccable marble flooring, and ageless elegance.

"Of all the banks in England…" muttered Will to his wife.

"Goblins! Ay me, what will our pastor say?"

"Act natural," Will coached, shrugging. "They certainly are."

Hermione made her way over to a goblin, who peered over his desk. _Griphook_ , his nameplate read. "Good morning," he said with a nasally voice. "What can I do for you?"

"He talks!" whimpered Jean.

"We would like to complete a pounds to wizarding money conversion," Will said calmly, recalling Severus' words.

"Purpose?" inquired the goblin.

"Hogwarts first year," piped up Hermione. "I need to purchase my books and supplies here in Diagon Alley."

"Hogwarts letter?" The goblin examined the letter that Hermione handed him, then nodded once. "Conversion granted. Amount in pounds?"

"Erm – " Will looked to his wife and daughter for support. His wife was staring wide eyed at the goblin and his daughter's brow was furrowed, so he settled on a safe number. "100 pounds."

"Would you like to open an account with us, Mr. – ?" the goblin asked. "We have vaults available."

"Granger, and not at the moment. Hermione will be attending Hogwarts for a number of years, however, so we shall find ourselves here next year at this time."

"All right. Current conversion rate is 1 pound is equivalent to .75 Galleons. You will receive 75 Galleons from the conversion."

"Is the Galleon strong these days?" Will couldn't believe he was discussing wizarding money conversation rates as if he were at London Heathrow Airport.

"Oh yes. The wizarding economy is thriving at the moment, Mr. Granger." The goblin considered him. "There were dark times about a decade ago, quite the severe recession, but now we have recovered greatly." The goblin measured the pound notes on the scales, and took note in his ledger. With his long-nailed, spindly fingers, he stroked a pile of Galleons, causing the golden coins to waterfall into a large pouch.

"Are there Galleon notes?" Will asked, cringing at the noise of the coins jingling. "We're going to sound pretty loud strolling down the row."

"Only Muggles have notes. Wizards prefer to work with gold Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts."

"Knuts?" What an odd term, thought Will.

"Until we meet again, Grangers." The goblin tied the pouch with a flourish.

* * *

Will Granger couldn't remember the last time a pouch of his caused such a racket. Perhaps when he was a boy becoming a man in secondary school, still carrying allowance to purchase gum.

"That was _wicked_!" Mrs. Granger sounded torn between excitement and shock.

"Okay, first item on the agenda complete," said Hermione. "Next stop: robe shop." After her robe fittings were complete, Hermione dying with impatience to get to the magic bookshop and the wand shop the whole time Madame Malkin pinned and pinned, the Granger parents were dragged to Ollivander's.


	5. Diagon Alley, Part 2

"Good afternoon," said the snow-haired elderly man, his pure blue eyes and demeanor exuding wisdom. "New wand, I presume?"

"Yes," said Hermione, a tad nervously as the man regarded her. His clear gaze penetrated her very being, seeming to extract information from her grey matter.

"I sense bravery within you. A strong heart," Mr. Ollivander considered. "A deep family connection, studious, heart entwined with the written word…" He muttered to himself as he extracted a slim box. "10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring core. Vine wood."

Hermione reached for her potential new wand. The elaborate design on its thick end felt marvelous in her firm grip, and she sensed a faint thrumming in her palm, as if the dragon's heart was calling to her. It warmed beneath her palm's life line.

" _Lumos_ ," Mr. Ollivander directed.

" _Lumos_ ," repeated Hermione, looking upon the soft blue glow of her wand's tip with wonder.

"The wand has chosen you, Miss Granger," Mr. Ollivander proclaimed.

* * *

At Flourish and Blotts, the Granger parents had to drag their daughter out of the Fair Folk section upstairs, its hanging sign depicting fairies and elves. "My bewitched daughter," muttered Mrs. Granger, "thinks that fairy is spelled faerie. Goodness gracious, her leisure reading's gotten out of hand."

Hermione protested as her mum lead her to the payment area, as she had encountered quite the character up on the second floor of Flourish and Blotts. She gazed up the staircase and around the lower level of F & B, half hoping to catch a flash of platinum in a rare show of London sunlight streaming through the bookstore windows.

* * *

 _She had been searching for a corner to curl up in, clutching her book on elves. In the best spot, a secluded, tight nook with a small rocking chair, sat a boy. Or at least she thought it was a boy, due to his short hair. His fair head shone silver in the blue light at the tip of his wand. She crept forward to investigate._

" _Hogwarts first year?" she lowered her voice, but it sounded loud in the quiet area. The boy looked up with a start, a frightened expression briefly crossing his face. It quickly dissolved into a haughty [disinterested] indifference._

" _Maybe, maybe not," he drawled. "What is it to you?" Hermione found herself fascinated by his elf-like features, the pointed nose, the small ears, the triangle chin. Without thinking, she blurted out, "Are you an elf?" She instantly kicked herself from her stupidity. It must have been the Fair Folk area of the bookshop muddling her brain. Then again, he could be anything. There were goblin tellers, for goodness sake._

 _The boy stood up quickly, his infuriated, pink-tinged face suddenly inches from Hermione's own. "How dare you call me an elf, you insolent," he had the nerve to give her a head to toe once over, "girl? I am a pure-blood wizard, and we have elves as slaves. We are far superior beings."_

" _Then why are you reading a book on house-elves?" Hermione asked reasonably, her eyes landing on the book he cast aside._

 _The boy sputtered, unable to develop a witty comeback, it seemed. He turned on his heel and left._

* * *

Hermione was so excited with her F & B purchases that she pulled at her mother's sleeve. "Mum, may we find a place to sit so I can look at my new textbooks?" When she didn't answer, she tried again. "Mum?"

"It's a lot to take in, young lady," said Mr. Granger with a concerned look towards Mrs. Granger. Hermione peered up into her mother's face – indeed, her dear old mum looked quite exhausted. A tad green too, almost heading towards tinted warlock status. "Let's head back."

"But I need to pick up my potions supplies at the Apothecary!" Hermione protested. "And we've barely made one round in Diagon Alley. It's magnificently fascinating, is it not?"

"Yes, I agree, but let's call it a day after picking up your – what was it? _Potions_?"

"Nothing more than chemistry in school, with a magical touch," Hermione reasoned cheerfully.

"Ah, the man," Mr. Granger recalled suddenly. "Severus. He was – is – the Potions instructor."

"All the more reason to prepare for his class. He did pay us a surprise visit."

* * *

The Grangers piled into their sensible silver car and drove home like a normal family, except for the magical baggage packed neatly in the trunk. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Hermione knocked on the glass of the back window, hopping from one foot to another in a happy dance as she opened the trunk. She first retrieved her wand from its slim velvet case – it warmed in her right palm upon contact. She hefted her many heavy books onto her left hip and attempted to make her way towards the front door.

"Whoa there, mini Granger!" Mr. Granger noticed the pile of books wobble precariously. "Let me assist you with that."

"I'm ready to read!" Hermione said, half hidden behind her self-created mountain. "It's Sunday afternoon, the sun's out, and I need to read all of these by the first day." She determinately made another step forward.

"Who said you need to read all of those before school starts? You may as well be homeschooled then, if you're going to self-teach yourself."

"We considered it," said Mrs. Granger hoarsely. "Also an all-girls private boarding school." She weakly climbed out of the car, one hand on her chest. "And we need to get in. Neighbors at high noon." She shared a meaningful look with her husband.

"Ah yes, oh of course Jean dear," muttered Will hurriedly, attempting to placate his needlessly anxious wife. Hermione gazed skyward – she didn't do the eye roll thing. But it seemed like a good time to do so at the moment.

* * *

In the next four weeks, Hermione read her textbooks from front to back. She kept returning to _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Bathilda Bagshot (smart woman, to have written a textbook on spell making curriculum) and practicing some basic spells with her brand new wand. She loved the elegant curve of her wand, how it warmed in her hand and fit perfectly in her petite grip. How it responded to her and felt like another limb. She'd not needed glasses thus far, despite the extensive amount of reading she engaged in, but she imagined the bonding she felt with her wand would be similar to wearing glasses that she needed.

Her school friends wrote her letters or called as September approached, asking her about how her summer had been and whether she'd completed all their vacation assignments. "Yes, I did complete the assignments and submitted them," she answered to each one of her correspondents, "but I'm transferring out this year. Let's keep in touch."

Some asked further questions, but most were bookish and practical, like her, and knew that they'd have follow the best course of action for their educations and futures. Hermione never really felt particularly close to any of them – no flesh and blood humans could compete with the ink-pressed, binded pages of a much loved book. There was no love lost between Hermione Granger and her Muggle friends.


	6. King's Cross Station

_**Monday, September 2, 1991**_

"King's Cross Station, m'lady," Mr. Granger mock-curtsied. Hermione lifted her navy blue suitcase out of their trunk with her father's help. Her uniform, including black robes suited for the legal courtroom atmosphere, was folded into the zipped front pocket for easy access.

"What the dickens is Platform 9 and _three quarters_?"Mrs. Granger exploded. "How are we supposed to get to the," she looked at the paper, "Hogwarts Express?"

"I suppose we shall find out," Mr. Granger answered smoothly. They'd arrived with plenty of time to spare. "I presume it will be similar to the pub situation preceding Diagon Alley. Not for our eyes, but for our daughter's." He regarded Hermione with pride. "We knew you were magical."

"You are too, Dad, even if it's in a different way." Hermione felt teary-eyed. She'd be leaving her mum and dad alone for an entire school year. They'd always had breakfast and dinner together, family outings to zoos and museums and aquariums, university trips…the three of them were quite close. Her parents always put her above their work or the other relatives and family members. "You are both magical too."

There was Platform 9, and Platform 10, but nothing in between. "Should we ask the attendant?" Mr. Granger said worriedly. They had time, but it wouldn't matter if they couldn't find the procedure for finding the hidden platform and boarding the secret train to the secluded private boarding school his daughter had gained admission to. He shook his head as he considered the circumstances. Dentistry had its moments, but nothing as thrilling as this adventure he'd gotten himself into.

"Let's wait here. There must be others in the same boat," Mrs. Granger said.

"I recall reading something about a barrier." Hermione frowned. "But I'm remembering all my potions notes and spells at the moment. Not quite what's needed." The three of them anxiously scanned the crowd.

* * *

Lucias Malfoy wanted to wait until the last possible moment to Apparate his fair-haired son to the filthy _Muggle_ barrier for Hogwarts Express' platform, but his wife Narcissa Black had other ideas. "We need to get him settled in," she insisted. "And you'll need to be less conspicuous."

"This is one of the top reasons to choose Durmstrang. All this mixing with _Muggles_." Lucias spat the word. They were beneath house elves, Muggles were. Dobby was a loyal servant to the Malfoys, housed in the Manor, but what were Muggles to their lineage? They only brought their bad blood.

"Lucias, Draco will be in Slytherin, under Severus' watchful eye, and protected under Dumbledore's leadership," Narcissa reasoned. "And sometimes you use the Muggle entrance to the Ministry of Magic, do you not?"

"Only in the most _dire_ circumstances," Lucias replied in a dangerous low hiss. "Do not imply that it is my choice to do so."

"I can take him," she offered.

"I will," Lucias said, bringing his staff down with authority. "I will ensure that he sits in a compartment with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

"Shouldn't he mingle with a mixed crowd?" Narcissa started, quickly changing course once she saw the murderous look on her husband's face. "Slytherins or guaranteed Slytherins-to-be, of course. But many some females?"

"Emotions," Lucias stated, "do not do anyone any good. Draco shall not be attached to anyone but Severus, anything but Slytherin House. He will serve the dual legacies of the House and Malfoy lineage."

* * *

Hermione widened her eyes as she noticed a flash of platinum near the pillar between platforms 9 and 10. She would remember that head anywhere, the perfectly brushed platinum blonde strands, a light wave ending before the nape of the neck. What was the F & B secret elf enthusiast doing here? Mr. Pure Blood Universe? He was well encompassed by the thick crowd of Muggles, accompanied by a tall man (elf senior?) with long fair hair. Hermione nudged her parents, indicating the duo. With a swing of his emerald robes and shimmering veil of nearly silver hair, Platinum Senior vanished into the solid brick wall after his petite counterpart.

The Grangers made their way over to the brick wall. Mr. Granger knocked on it – it was very solid. "Hermione, are you sure they're Hogwarts too? The man looked like a…I don't know, one of those Fair Folk princes on your fantasy novels."

"Oh, not you too," grumbled Mrs. Granger. She entered a personal sulk when her husband and daughter ignored her.

Hermione giggled. "That's what I thought too." She reached out to knock the brick wall, gasping with shock when her hand went through the wall.

"This is it!" She turned to her dad excitedly. "It's the barrier!" She considered it, withdrawing her hand from inside the wall. "I don't know if you will be able to make it through."

"How will we know if you've made it?" Mr. Granger said worriedly.

"I promise to write a letter as soon as I board the train," Hermione promised earnestly. Her eyes glittered with tears as she walked into her parent's outstretched arms.

"We'll miss you, dear." Her mom murmured into her bushy hair. "Write often."

"Please come visit during the holidays, m'lady," Mr. Granger said.

"Don't forget to brush and floss daily," they said in unison.

"Watch the cakes," added Mrs. Granger.

"And the sticky foods," warned Mr. Granger.

"I have my toothbrush, a spare, two tubes of toothpaste, flossers – the full package." Hermione grinned. "I love my personal dentists." The trio embraced once again.

Hermione turned away from her parents and tentatively pressed her hand against the barrier once more. Same effect – it went through, meeting cold air. She then walked straight at the brick wall.

For a moment, she was enveloped in cold blackness. "I've read worse," she said to herself. Heroines always kept going, no matter what the injury or scale of the frightful experience or encounter. And Hermione Granger, the soon-to-be twelve year old bushy haired, studious brunette, knew that her very name resembled what she felt in her thudding heart: a heroine.

Emerging on the other side, she gulped mouthfuls of fresh air. To her right, she looked at the shiny maroon train, Hogwarts Express upon its face. As she made her way onto the platform, she noticed the platinum duo conversing in low tones as the petite understudy boarded the train. She raised her eyebrows as a thought popped into her whirring brain. Why should a gal go for the gold when there was platinum?


	7. Hogwarts Express

_A/N: Sincere apologies for the delay, dearest readers! I'll be writing content in overtime to make up for the wait time. Let me know what your thoughts are on the new developments!_

Hermione made her way through the throng of Hogwarts students ranging from pipsqueaks to near adults. She settled into a compartment where a round-faced auburn-haired young girl sat trembling.

"I'm Hannah Abbott," the girl introduced herself shyly when Hermione put her luggage away and sat down.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said clearly, pumping the girl's hand firmly. Her parents had taught her that a floppy fish handshake was like a wiggling tooth. Fine for when you were a child loosing teeth, but detrimental when approaching adulthood.

"First year?" The girl's voice was soft, almost a mumble.

"Yes, I'm very excited. I've read all the textbooks and practiced some of the spells in Ms. Bagshot's work. Did you read the appendix on trolls in our Defense Against the Dark Arts text? It was rather fascinating…" Hermione rattled on as the sliding compartment door opened.

"Oh my goodness, cute magic boys everywhere," a giggling girl with brunette ringlets stood between two other young girls of tan complexion, all large dark eyes and long ebony hair. "Can we sit here?"

Hermione knew this trio wasn't quite her scene – she'd prefer to have some more sophisticated conversation – but new friends were good. Besides, she couldn't turn the girls away without seeming like a hag instead of an honest to goodness witch. "Of course," she smiled warmly, inwardly bracing herself against the gossiping spiel to come.

"I heard there's this smashing brunette in Hufflepuff. Like the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Did I mention that I love brunettes? I may be partial due to my gorgeous, dreamy locks…" the girl sighed with pleasure, then looked around. "Oh my, how rude of me. I'm Lavender Brown. And yes, before you ask, I smell heavenly too."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione repeated. She wasn't going to waste a handshake on this one. Lost cause. She noticed one of the trio eying her discreetly. Hermione subtly rolled her eyes in Lavender's direction and the girl nodded, moving to her side of the compartment.

"I'm Padma," the girl said in an undertone. "Lavender's more on my twin's wavelength."

"I thought twins shared wavelengths," Hermione said curiously.

"Somehow we ended up aligned a bit differently. I'm more into books, Parvati's more about cinema." Padma glanced to the quiet girl across from them, who was now looking out the window as their train rushed by the lush scenery of the London countryside. "How about her?"

"She's pretty quiet, but friendly." Hermione furrowed her brow. "I'm not really sure what to talk to her about, but she listened to me talking about textbooks…"

"Did you read all of them?" Padma said with a wide grin. "I can't wait for Transfiguration. Absolutely fascinating! I wonder if the instructor is an Animagus."

"I've read all about the classes in _Hogwarts, A History_ …" The girls lapsed into comfortable conversation.

The compartment door slid open to reveal a round-faced, confused looking boy who looked to be frantically searching for something. "Have you all seen a, um, wartful, I mean, with warts, toad? He's my new pet, Trevor, and my grandmother bought him as a present for me and oh no, she'll be so upset," he trailed off, bashful under the scrutiny of four first year girls.

"Eww, there might be a toad here?" squealed Lavender. "How _revolting_. It's going to mess up my clothes."

"We wear an _uniform_ ," snapped Hermione. "And it's he, Trevor, not it." She took pity on the newcomer. "I'll help you out," she smiled. In a rush of inspiration, she steered him across from the quiet girl. "Talk to Hannah. What was your name?"

"Neville Longbottom." Hannah and Neville nervously regarded each other.

Hermione slipped out of the compartment and opened the sliding door of the one next to them. In each non-shaded compartment, she asked if anyone had seen a toad. She could see who was seated in the compartment through the glass before knocking or opening, unless, of course, if the shades were drawn.

A group of boys laughed loudly at something one of them said. Hermione felt heat rise to her face when she set eyes upon the handsome features of their ringleader, his hands curled around a broom, his brunette hair in a sweeping wave across his forehead. She felt as nervous as the round-faced duo she'd paired up in her own compartment.

"Have any of you," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "seen a toad? A boy named Neville's looking for one."

"Say, Cedric, have you seen a toad? Too bad it's not a frog. More pure green for Hufflepuff support." The boys laughed, though the good looking leader, Cedric, remained solemn.

"No, we haven't, but who should we notify upon sighting said toad?" Hermione gaped at his articulate diction.

"We're seated near the conductor," she said weakly. She couldn't even pull off her signature bushy hair swing. Or sass. Negative sass factor in this compartment. And what was it about this boy that made her into a Lavender-esque…wait, wasn't this the boy Lavender was talking about earlier? Hermione debated whether she'd share the news.

There wasn't much other incident in her loop to the other end of the train, except for a celebrity run-in with Harry Potter. He wasn't all that remarkable, holding a Chocolate Frog, and he sat with an untidy, flaming red-haired boy who was gorging down sweets like Cookie Monster. Plus, the red-haired boy was practicing a joke spell with a beat-up wand and sorry-looking rat. Harry Potter could do better than that. He'd grow into his looks and leadership, hopefully was rather intelligent and talented with spells (he had beat the Dark Lord, after all).

As Hermione rounded back to her train compartment, disappointed in her inability to uncover Neville's missing toad, she stopped short at the flash of platinum that greeted her in the compartment directly opposite hers. The shades were drawn but there were gaps allowing passerby to catch glimpses, wildly guess regarding the nature of its occupants. Hermione raised her hand to knock before nearly being run over by a plump lady pushing a cart full of sweets.

"Darling, are you standing in the path for some Chocolate Frogs?" she asked pleasantly. Hermione scanned the selection, shaking her head. Her parents would be so scandalized at the numerous cavity-causing concoctions gathered upon a single cart, tempting youngsters. Magic blood or not, teeth were teeth.

"Sweets for sale!" the lady called out to the shaded compartment. She had drooped slightly at Hermione's rejection but brightened considerably when she reassumed her duties. A pale, pointed face, so very elfin and fair, peered out of the compartment entrance just as Hermione opened her mouth in a burst of inspiration. "I'm actually looking for a real frog – " Hermione and the boy regarded each other for a few long moments.

"Well, well," he drawled at last. "If it isn't Ms. Elf Lover."

Hermione bristled. But she remembered that Fair Folk were cunning creatures, selfish tricksters who were not to be trusted. Their beauty was meant to lure innocents in. "If it isn't the elf himself," she retorted.

"So then you love me," the boy smirked. "I wouldn't blame you. I'm rather gorgeous. My mirror at home in my grand manor compliments me daily." He paused, contemplating. "Speaking of which, I need to follow up with my fans."

"The only celebrity our age here on this train is Harry Potter," Hermione said reasonably. "Forgive me if I don't buy your flawed logic."

"So you've met," the pale boy said shortly. His clear blue eyes narrowed slightly before widening to their almond fullness. "Wait until you get to school, young reader," he said mysteriously, unruffled. "You'll see the power play."

"Do you want sweets or not?" The lady's sweet voice held a note of irritation, as if she'd accidentally swallowed the wrong flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. The boy retreated into the compartment, presumably nudging his friends awake. A chubby, squat boy appeared alongside a taller, slightly less Pillsbury-esque one, the duo flanking the slender elfin youngster.

"I hope you're in my House," the boy professed earnestly. "Then you'd understand." With a final parting gaze, he moved to slide shut his compartment door. However, his two sidekicks protested loudly, using troll-esque grunts, at being denied sweets. The boy flicked his elegant-fingered right hand dismissively, allowing their greedy hands to reach towards the selection. Hermione spun towards her compartment, moving to retreat within its protection containing unfortunately unpleasant (in regards to her personal taste), but not fully hopeless, occupants. Simultaneously, the boy swiveled on his heel, his already robed silhouette creating a swishing noise aligned with his passion for dramatic flair. Ice blue met warm brown a last time as they turned their backs.


	8. Sorting Hat

"My toad," Neville whimpered quietly when he spotted Hermione reappear at their compartment entrance.

"My apologies, Neville, but I was not able to locate Trevor," Hermione said distractedly, cheeks flushed pink. "Ah, it seems you have all robed yourselves. Excuse me for a moment." Unfortunately, just as she was reaching for her luggage, the lady was knocking upon the compartment door asking if they wanted sweets.

"Oh my goodness, of course we need sweets for this shining sweetness right here!" Lavender exclaimed, nearly upsetting her fresh coat of gold polish as she indicated herself. Hermione sighed at Lavender's predictable exclamations, simultaneously shooting Neville an apologetic look as he freshly lamented his missing toad upon sighting the Chocolate Frogs.

Everyone in the compartment took something off the cart, Lavender babbling excitedly about the features of each. Hermione curiously regarded the sweets as Lavender described them; in spite of herself, she took a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" the lady inquired, referring to Hermione's prior adversity to the sweets during her run-in with petite platinum. Hermione nodded, examining the box. She'd eat no more than a few, and she'd share the majority of the selection with her cabin mates.

* * *

The train screeched to a stop, all five first years gazing out the window at the dark evening. They wordlessly disembarked with their luggage – even little miss chatterbox was filled with anticipation. "First years!" they heard, turning to see a giant bearded man dressed like a wild hunter. Hermione was thrilled at the sight and idly wondered what species her mysterious elfin male was in, as her books had been coming to life since the dark haired Potions instructor came to pay her parents a visit.

They followed the giant man through the dense thicket to a black lagoon, where a collective gasp spread through the children like wildfire. The smooth surface of the lake rippled beneath the glowing stars of night sky. They boarded wooden boats in fours, each boat selecting a designated lantern keeper. As the quartets rowed towards their destination, awestruck looks were seen once more on their upturned young faces once they sighted the castle.

Hermione was not a visual artist, but she was a girl of many musings, written words and deep contemplative insights. Words did not come to her as they usually did, but she knew she would begin writing in the wee hours of the night when her delayed reaction of this moment would sink in. She was eternally grateful that Lavender wasn't present in her boat so she could enjoy her first in person sighting of the castle in peace. Of course, _Hogwarts, A History_ had been illustrated with paintings and photographs, but here she was at present, seated with a lantern in hand, gazing upon the towering sight to behold.

The first years set foot upon land once more with shaky legs – the nervous excitement was becoming almost too much to bear for a number of eleven year old children. They made their way through the lighted corridors until they stopped at a majestic door, where they were instructed to wait patiently.

"It's true then," drawled a familiar voice, "what they're saying on the train." Hundreds of heads whipped in its direction, watching the petite boy address the slim, dark haired boy at the front of the crowd. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Gasps and whisperings spread through the assembled youngsters. Lavender could be heard distinctly among the crowd, saying "I need a better view!" Hermione, awkwardly positioned near famous Potter's red haired pal, looked on with fascinated curiosity, though she also cringed inwardly. The boy she admired privately was making a very public appearance. Perhaps she'd finally learn his name…

"Draco Malfoy," he said, holding out a hand to shake. _His first name sounds like dragon and his last name is reminiscent of_ fae, Hermione thought. "And this is Crabbe," he indicated one of his cronies with a haughty tilt of his pale, pointed face, "and Goyle." His eyes flickered almost lazily to rest on Hermione for a split second before darting away again, affixing Harry Potter to the spot. "I would despise for you to be unable to attain your full potential due to mingling with ah…the _wrong_ crowd." His gaze clearly gave Ron Weasley a once over.

"I can figure out the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry responded coolly. Barely stifled gasps rippled through the throng. Lavender Brown nearly toppled Neville over in her haste to get to the front of the crowd.

Draco's usually fair face reddened in anger; the look on his face was murderous. However, the expression upon the stern witch behind him clearly stated that she tolerated no disobedience under her watch. Adorned with a pointed witch's hat, spectacles and emerald green robes, her voice rang out over the throng of trembling first years. As they learned that she was Professor McGonagall and that they were to be sorted – old news to Hermione, though she heard the Weasley boy and Harry consulting one another in anguished undertones – she startled at the sight of a toad at her feet.

"Trevor!" Neville called out, clumsily shoving students out of his way as he retrieved his toad. He bashfully stood up beneath the scrutiny of the Professor.

As the magnificent entrance was opened and the first years entered in a line of duos, Hermione began speaking of the features of the Great Hall to Hannah. She appreciated how Hannah absorbed information, actively listening as she spoke. She hoped they were in the same House.

The first years came to an abrupt stop, clumping rather ungracefully before the stairs leading to the High Table. Headmaster Dumbledore appraised the group, sky clear eyes twinkling happily. McGonagall went over the Sorting and announced that it was to be alphabetical by last name. Hannah looked to Hermione with a frightened expression. Hermione noticed her hands were shaking and gave her a quick side hug. "We'll stay in touch," she promised the quiet girl, "no matter where we are Sorted."

"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called out. _Mmm,_ the Sorting Hat mused in the shy auburn haired girl's ear. _Clever, good listener, quietly loyal. An excellent friend, a passion for nurturing…you must be…"_ HUFFLEPUFF!" Hermione clapped alongside the rest, though she lamented the closer camaraderie she'd have had with the supportive girl had they been in the same House. She was fairly certain she'd be a contender for either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

She tuned out of the Sorting, absentmindedly noting the various shades of fright (indicated in their facial shades of deathly white, the flushed complexions of those stagefrightened, and lingering greenness from overindulgence of sweets in a chugging train). "Brown, Lavender!" was Sorted into Gryffindor, causing Hermione to consider how exactly the gossip queen of first year was brave (maybe her forward speculations about the older, swoonworthy Hufflepuff hottie?). When "Granger, Hermione!" was called, she was undergoing analysis paralysis of what the wise Sorting Hat would murmur in her ear.

 _Ah,_ he mused. _Feisty, courageous, intelligent. Lover of books. Resolver of conflicts._ _Clever, quick on your feet with snap judgments, witty comebacks. You're divergent, my dear, showing the best traits of every House._ "Place me where I will excel and blossom," requested the young witch in a hushed undertone. "Where I will find companionship beyond the literary word, where I will smile and laugh in contentment." _Your future, young one, is yours to dictate. Seven years is a long time. You are best suited for…_


	9. House Rivalry, Part 1

"RAVENCLAW!" Cheers greeted the loved Hat's announcement. Hermione was quite pleased with the decision and strode down to her new House. She awaited her elf's Sorting with bated breath.

"Malfoy, Draco!" Professor McGonagall eyed the young carbon copy of his infamous father with thinly veiled distaste. She'd see what trouble this young lad, unarguably Slytherin, would manage to pull off with hair so precisely slicked.

Her prediction, of course, was on the money. The youngster of fair, unblemished complexion, unlike his family's disreputable history, was a definite Slytherin as soon as the Hat was in a centimeter's contact with his greaser style platinum 'do.

Hermione felt a tad jittery that her bushy hair was in the direct line of sight of the elfin youngster. She vowed to not look back, though curiosity consumed her. She would have to do some research… _ahem, not stalkerish at all_ , her inner voice chastised her. Yes, research, she retorted firmly. His background was to be known. After all, inter-House companionship was what the school strived for, was it not?

Speaking of which, she could clearly see Harry Potter through the ghost of times begone, chivalrous knighthood galore in his outfit and demeanor. He pulled her heartstrings in a different way, the dark haired lad. Poor young one, to have had such a tragedy in infancy! To have lost not only a mother's love but also a father's steadfast presence.

She'd always been an overachiever, but this was too much even for an enthusiastically ambitious bookworm. She wanted the gold, the silver, the onyx, the platinum. Not just the green of the trees but the red of the earth, the duality of the Christmas color scheme. How on earth was this Ravenclaw to take on friendships with Slytherin and Gryffindor rivals? Heck, she eyed the looker in Hufflepuff. She'd throw him in for good measure (much to the chagrin of Lavender, of course. Who could pass up such a golden – no platinum – opportunity?).

* * *

"Up!" The broomstick rolled around on the grass. Apparently it was too foggy for it to consider getting out of bed, AKA off the ground, and do some work. Hermione considered pouring some pumpkin juice over the broom to squelch its attitude and wake it up. She wasn't having the worst trouble of the lot, however – the redheaded boy, Ron, lay flat on the ground after taking an actual beating from an inanimate object. They certainly had a personality of their own. Hermione resisted the inappropriate urge to laugh at the ridiculous sight of him scratching his head after coming to his senses; after all, it wasn't like she was Miss Flying Expert (yet).

She tried using varying tones of her mother's stern voice – there was the tone she reserved for disciplining Hermione (which she had to rack her brain to recall, as it hadn't been used in a while) and the repeated requests she made to patients in her dentist's office ("Open!" "Wider," "Bite," "Swallow," the works). It was not helping her mood that blondie and raven hair were whizzing around. Heck, even gossip diva was whooshing through the air, still able to talk nonstop with her partner in crime Parvati. "So the plan is for me to master flying and get on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, oh let's see, maybe next year when he's older and even hotter because first years can't be in Quidditch unless they're like, legendary and so that's how I'll face him off on the playing field and girl, you bet I'll play the game well…" Goodness! It was giving Hermione a migraine. She wasn't even supposed to be here in the double flying lesson for Gryffindors and Slytherins. She had gotten caught up in an interesting Charms discussion with Ravenclaw Head of House Professor Flitwick before his lunch break and missed the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff flying lesson for the day.

Hermione was looking sadly at her broom and wondered if she should just pick it up, Muggle style when there was an excited squeal from Lavender that caused her to look up. "Oh my goodness, look at those contrasting shades! I'm ready to write some like, bad poetry. Maybe Snape'll teach us love potions? I could totally offer to wash the professor's hair, like not me but have it done so we can blackmail into love potion lessons…"

What Lavender was ranting on about with many, many words was an airborne standoff between indeed, contrasting hair colors. "Give it here, Malfoy," Harry demanded angrily. The other boy's delicate elfin features were twisted in a downright impish grin.

"Get it yourself," he sneered, sending a small, scarlet ball falling to its evident destruction. Harry surprised him and the crowd that had gathered below by giving the ball his singular focus, coordinating his school broom into a spectacular dive. He caught the ball before it hit the ground, though was greeted by a stern faced Professor McGonagall as soon as his own feet touched the ground. "Potter! In my office immediately!" As she led him away, she looked at Hermione, baffled. "What on earth are you doing here Miss Granger?"

"Missed class, was talking with – "

"I shall have a talk with your Head of House," interrupted McGonagall.

" – Flitwick," Hemione finished meekly. It was no use, as she had turned away, leading Harry to his fate. Malfoy and his cronies laughed without even bothering to stifle their amusement. _Bullying jerks_ , thought Hermione. But she knew her intrigued self wouldn't be able to resist the image of platinum hair sparkling in the sunlight during her dreams that first night. And perhaps the faintest of onyx flashes, amber hued in the mighty rays of the sun.

* * *

"How does your twin stand it?" complained Hermione to Padma. "Prattling on and on about this and that, all day long, ugh," she huffed. Padma fought to hide a smile.

"You know you like it," she smirked. "She has the best gossip and plus is on par with _Witch Weekly_ for entertainment."

"What's that?" asked Hermione, mystified. She had a fair idea that it was a tabloid magazine, but wanted to know and confirm everything in this new world.

"You don't know _Witch Weekly_?" Padma's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Why, my sister has all the back copies to the early 90's!" She furrowed her brow. "What do you read for entertainment?"

"I'm thinking about a subscription to _The Daily Prophet_ ," Hermione admitted.

"Booor-ing." Padma rolled her eyes. "Well, Lavender always has the deets…"

"…on boys," finished Hermione. "How about the more important, 'deets' as you so eloquently put it?"

"It's all about the deets, girl," giggled Padma, imitating Lav and Pav's gossip tone. Hermione made a face, though burst into laughter. Soon both girls were red faced and chortling. They sat down to catch their breath before an unexpected surprise stopped by.

"Elf queen," came a familiar voice. Hermione looked up, thankful that she was already red. She was not thankful at her post laugh attack husky voice that kept choking up.

"What's going on," she managed.

"Can I talk to you?" He acknowledged her nodded approval with a slight raise of his brows before a subtle, aristocratic nose tilt in Padma's direction. "Alone?" Hermione stood up, mouthing _I'll explain to you later_ upon Padma's confused expression.

They strolled in silence for several moments, Draco leading them to the main courtyard. He spoke first. "How has your first week been?"

"Oh, it's rather different from what I'm used to," Hermione admitted. "I'm comfortable with academic rigor but the magical aspects are taking some time to warm up to."

"Quite the opposite for me," he said candidly. "I've grown up with the magic and social structure, but the academics are taking its toll. It's only the first week and already teachers and students alike are raving about your impressive performance."

Hermione was a humble youngster and flushed scarlet at his praise. "I read many of the books before coming here. That was an advantage," she said.

"Ah, but how many first years thought to do so, despite having bought their books in Diagon Alley well in advance?" He gave her a meaningful look. "Granger, I will say this once as I don't like to grovel. Will you assist me with my academic growth?"

 _Sly, cunning Slytherins and a suspected elf_ _to boot._ Hermione's first thought was that he wanted homework help, AKA homework done for him, and she tried to reason around it. "A) Why not get a tutor or ask an instructor? Or someone in your own House? B) We don't even have the same classes…"

"Hush, we don't have the same _sections_ because we were unfortunately Sorted into different Houses, but the classes are the same for first years. We don't quite have the luxury of electives. In addition, I somewhat know you and have seen you pouring over your books in the library. Between my own observations and the rumour mill, I have faith in your academic support credentials."

"I have no such credentials…" Hermione protested weakly, knowing it was a losing battle. She was already half obsessed with the boy anyway.;

* * *

Flitwick was delighted. "I can adjust your schedule so you share sections with your Slytherin tutee!" Hermione's eyes widened. Goodness gracious, Lavender all day? She knew many of the classes were Slytherin-Gryffindor, such as double Potions, double Flying, double Charms. Then again, she'd be able to observe and analyze the inherent rivalry between the two Houses, namely her two boys. Plus, she suspected Flitwick was excited to have a positive influence on the two most hyper Houses.

"Whichever course of action you believe is best, Professor," she said respectfully, leaving the decision in his hands.

* * *

 **A/N Sorry guys, yep, my fanfic became one of those abandoned projects for a few months as I recharged. I was reading a lot of HP fanfics during my hiatus from writing and decided to take this story in a more daring direction (straying more from the books [safe grounds] into the realm of crazy fanfic ideas). I fell in love with Harmony and Drarry's an acquired taste - this was originally going to be Dramione only (Draco overcoming his prejudice and getting together with Hermione). I'd love R &R on the new developments and PM me anytime with feedback and suggestions!**


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